


What Would You Do?

by Batsutousai



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Canon Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Lady Loki, Past Child Abuse, Past Spousal Abuse, Strippers & Strip Clubs, transsexual character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from a marriage-gone-wrong, Loki Larsen has to find a way to survive life as an illegal alien in New York City with her younger brother and four-year-old son. When Tony Stark discovers her secret, is that the end of everything, or is it the start of something far better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Would You Do?

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 
> 
> **A/N:** Title and idea both from the City High song _What Would You Do?_ Which I first heard via Bastille's cover.  
>  I'm off and on about this song. On one hand, it's not a bad message. On the other hand, once you're toeing the poverty line, it's really hard to climb above it. (The plethora of male singers also makes my male privilege radar go insane, which doesn't help.)
> 
> Loki's last name and Sleipnir's age went through so many revisions while I was working on this, it's kind of pathetic. If I missed fixing anything following one of the changes, I apologise. (After this fic hit the 10K mark, I kind of stopped caring about anything beyond making the damn thing _end_ , tbh. ^.^" )

Loki couldn't say, the next morning, shivering on Býleistr's lumpy couch with her son tucked up against her side in the least ratty of the blankets, what had been the last straw. The ache of bruises across the left side of her face and upper arm suggested it was them, but she had a vague recollection of Sva storming towards Sleipnir with a raised hand, and the mere suggestion shot ice through her veins, terror and fury in equal measure. 

She shuddered, too obvious to have been caused by the chill the dying heater couldn't quite fight back. Sleipnir shifted at her side and she gently ran a hand through his ash-blond hair, soothing his troubled sleep. 

Footsteps sounded in the hall and Býleistr appeared in the doorway, chest bare in a way that, for Loki – who had helped her younger sibling through most of puberty, before the hormone treatments and surgeries turned him into a male – was beyond odd. She ignored it, though, offering the other a weak smile. "Morning, Lester," she whispered, ever aware of the small body curled against her side. 

Býleistr – Lester to anyone outside of Loki's own head – inclined his head. "You look like shit, Lo'," he informed her bluntly. 

Loki resisted the urge to touch the ache across her cheek. "Your couch is unbelievably miserable to sleep on," she retorted, stepping carefully around the elephant in the room. 

Býleistr flashed her a sharp smile that she _knew_ he'd stolen from her. "The brat seems to be managing." 

Loki glanced down at her son and soothed her fingers through his hair again. "He's four; crashing on uncomfortable surfaces is part of his charm." 

"You say charm, I say–"

"Language!" Loki hissed, not needing her brother to finish the sentence to know it was nothing she wanted said around Sleipnir. Asleep or no. "Don't make me find a bar of soap." 

Býleistr's eyes sparkled. "None in the apartment. You'll have to run down to the store down the block. By the time you get back, the kid and I'll be long gone." 

"Teaching him all the worst curse words, I'm sure," Loki muttered, unbothered by the hollow threat. After the two of them ran away from home when Loki was seventeen, stowing away on a ship and stealing what scraps they could while the crew were asleep or on duty, they were all the other had left; Býleistr would no sooner run off with Sleipnir, than Loki would go to another for help when she was at her lowest.

Býleistr covered his mouth, attempting to silence the weird little giggle-snort that had counted for his laughter since he caught the flu their second month in America. 

Sleipnir shifted and his small hands clutched in Loki's shirt. "Mamma..." he mumbled. 

Býleistr's laughter immediately ceased as Loki twisted awkwardly and kissed her son's forehead. "Hush, sweet one. Mamma's right here." 

Sleipnir's eyes cracked open and he peered up at her. "Okay, Mamma?" 

"Mamma is fine. Do you remember where we are?" 

Sleipnir opened his eyes a little wider, taking in the bruising marring her face, then peered around her at where Býleistr was standing in the doorway. "Uncle Lester!" he realized and made a valiant effort to shove away the blanket. 

Loki helped unwrap her son and hop over her so he could run to his uncle. Býleistr caught him in a hug and twirled him around. Sleipnir let out a screech of glee and clung on tight, every hint of last night's terrors vanished. Loki was grateful. 

"Let's get you through the bathroom before Mamma takes it over," Býleistr suggested to the boy, pitching his voice low, as though in an attempt to keep Loki from hearing the plan. 

Sleipnir peeked back at where Loki was sitting on the couch. His smile flickered and he leaned closer to his uncle to whisper something in his ear. Býleistr's bright smile softened. "Absolutely. Bathroom first, though. Mamma probably wants a shower." 

"Mamma likes showers," Sleipnir said sagely. 

"Mamma has always been fond of showers," Býleistr confided as he carried the boy from the room. 

Loki took the moment of silence to sigh and run a hand through the wreck of her hair. She and Býleistr probably needed to discuss the future, which wouldn't be easy with a child running around. Sleipnir always took a nap around noon, though, and Býleistr, she knew, had called in at his construction work the night before, citing family illness. They could talk then. 

Loki also needed to find a time to go back to her home and pick up as much of her and Sleipnir's things as she could while Sva was at work. She didn't want to take Sleipnir back to the house, not after everything, but that meant Býleistr would have to remain with him. Which was fine, but it would mean she was on her own. 

"I'll make do," she whispered as the sound of a flushing toilet echoed through the apartment. 

"Mamma!" Sleipnir shouted as he skidded to a stop in the living room doorway. 

Loki was immediately on her feet, half afraid he'd fall over, but he caught himself on the doorway and grinned at her, though it faltered as he saw her again. "My turn?" Loki asked, pushing away the moment's fear. 

Sleipnir blinked, then nodded. "Yeah!" He gave her a stern look. "Stay out of the kitchen." 

Loki raised an eyebrow. "The kitchen, hm? What are you and Uncle Lester up to?" 

She started forward, only to find him latching onto her legs. "Nope! Shower!" he called up. 

Loki laughed and ruffled his hair. "As you please, then. Don't let Uncle Lester burn down the apartment." 

Sleipnir's eyes went wide and he made a beeline for the kitchen, shouting, "Uncle Lester! Uncle Lester, don't burn it!" 

Býleistr let out an indignant, " _Loki_!" making Loki laugh hard enough her face hurt; Býleistr was plenty capable in the kitchen any more, she knew, but she could hardly pass up a chance to torment him about his childhood failures. 

As ordered, she took her shower. Býleistr's apartment's heater might not have worked, but the building water heater was running just fine, and Loki made a valiant attempt to empty it before she felt human enough to turn the water off and wrap herself up in the clothing that had magically replaced what she'd slept in. The shirt was a little tight across the chest, but Býleistr and she had always been of a size, and Loki was hardly in a position to complain about a little tightness. 

Breakfast was awaiting her: Chocolate chip pancakes drowned in enough syrup to rot out at least half the teeth of a normal person, bacon a little too crispy at the edges, and freshly brewed coffee in the mug she'd given Býleistr when he'd started his treatments, the one that said "No. 1 Bro" in the most gaudy shade of red she could find in the shop. Býleistr always made Loki use that mug for the same reason that Loki had bought it for him; they both _hated_ red. 

Loki was suitably grateful for the food, praised Sleipnir for keeping his uncle from burning anything, and ignored any heckling from Býleistr's corner. 

It all felt remarkably normal, and Loki quickly stopped feeling the way her bruises pulled every time she smiled. 

-0-

Býleistr had a kindly neighbor whom he trusted to keep an eye on Sleipnir, and Loki trusted his judgment enough to leave her son behind while she and her brother returned to her former home to collect any essentials. 

Sva was at work, thankfully, though his anger clearly hadn't stopped once Loki had grabbed Sleipnir and run. The television had been smashed in, and at least half of the good plates and bowls were strewn across the floor in pieces. 

"What did you _ever_ see in this man?" Býleistr growled as Loki pulled out a couple of bags for him to stuff with whatever items she handed him. 

"He was settled enough to care for me, cover whatever costs the shelter couldn't for your treatments, and he–"

"Called you beautiful." Býleistr sighed. "I know, Lo'." He shoved a handful of shirts into a bag a little too roughly, the accent they'd both worked so hard to lose coming out full force as he continued, "How did it all go so wrong? We got away from Faðir, found a way to fix me, you found a kind husband who didn't care that you have no papers, and Sleipnir..." 

"Sleipnir," Loki agreed quietly, handing over a pile of skirts. A child had been the _last_ thing her husband had wanted. After the second month of screaming waking them both in the middle of the night, Sva had begun making a stop at the local bar and drinking himself to sleep, leaving Loki to take care of their son in the night, while his father slept like the dead. By the time Sleipnir had begun sleeping through the night, Sva had grown to depend on his alcohol too much, and he didn't care to seek help. 

Býleistr's mouth was pressed in a tight line as he silently continued packing the things Loki handed him. Loki, likewise, didn't speak. 

It was only when they moved to Sleipnir's room that the man said, "We'll get you a job. Mrs. Grey is more than capable of watching Sleipnir during the day, and we can, between the two of us, provide well enough for three." 

"Even without papers?" Loki whispered, running her fingers along some of Sleipnir's baby things before passing them by; unnecessary clutter. 

"I've been managing," Býleistr pointed out gently. Out of the corner of her eye, Loki thought she saw Sleipnir's favorite teddy bear – the one he refused to have anything to do with, on account of the arm Sva had torn off, not even after Loki had fixed it – vanish into one of the bags. 

Loki shook her head. "Providing for an adult is nothing like providing for a child, Lester," she insisted. "For one, he is constantly outgrowing clothing–"

"So we'll look for donations. Ask the neighbors and our co-workers. We can keep an eye on the Salvation Army around the way, too, watch for deals." Býleistr touched Loki's shoulder, catching her attention. "We'll manage, Loki," he promised, conviction a solid weight to his words. "We always manage, you and me." 

Loki swallowed against a lump in her throat and turned to pull her brother into a tight hug, drawing strength from his impossible faith. She hoped – prayed to any god who would listen, even her accursed namesake – he would prove to be right. 

-0-

Once upon a time, Loki's natural beauty – though she hadn't felt so beautiful at the time, dressed in a ragged dress two sizes too big on her everywhere but across her breasts, which had been far too large, given how thin the rest of her was – had been the thing to buy her and Býleistr a new life. Now, however, trying to find a job as a construction or daytime worker, that same beauty – furthered by seven year's good eating and proper healthcare – was destroying their every dream. No one wanted to hire a woman who looked so breakable, and Býleistr's assurances that Loki was stronger than she looked fell on deaf ears. 

Loki tried finding a waitressing or retail job, but no one would hire her without the proper paperwork. Not even the kindly old man who owned the corner shop down the block would take her, for all that he was perpetually in need of a second set of hands. 

"I should just look for another husband," Loki whispered to Býleistr one night, the two of them bundled around the sleeping Sleipnir, trying to all three keep warm against the winter's chill by sharing Býleistr's bed. "Marriage is all I'm good for, it seems." 

Býleistr immediately shook his head. "Forget the legal hoops, I'm not going to let you find another bastard to abuse you and Sleipnir any time soon." 

"Then _what_?" Loki whispered, turning away to hide the burn of tears in her eyes. "You can't support all three of us alone, Lester." 

Býleistr was quiet for a long moment before, uncertainly, offering, "Greg, one of the other workers, said his wife dances at this club. It's a bit... Well, it's edging on a strip club." 

Loki glanced back at him. "But it pays?" 

"Yeah. Pretty well, from what he was saying." 

Loki offered a helpless, broken smile. "When needs must..." 

"I don't like it, Lo'," Býleistr insisted. "It could be dangerous. You could get hurt." 

Loki looked away, weighing his words, then turned back and met her brother's shadowed eyes, determination coursing through her. "When has a little danger ever stopped me, Býleistr?" 

Her brother grimaced at the use of his birth name, then sighed. "When indeed," he murmured. 

And that was pretty much the end of that. 

-0-

Býleistr's co-worker – or the man's wife – had been lying when he said it was 'edging' on a strip club. The place _was_ a strip club, but bikini-style. The proprietor had been a little uncertain upon discovering that Loki had experience with neither pole dancing, nor lap dancing, but he was willing to give the woman a chance once she swore she was a quick study. It helped that the wife of Býleistr's co-worker – Betty – had put in a good word for her. 

Loki paid for the good word by handing over a tenth of her earnings for the first month, but Betty hadn't fibbed about how well it paid, and the leftover money was plenty enough to cover what fees Býleistr's paychecks couldn't, as well as keep some money aside for Christmas presents or new clothing for Sleipnir or whatever emergency popped up first. 

Loki found a couple of regulars, and their kindness paid for Sleipnir catching a nasty cold from the lack of working heater, as well as the repairs Býleistr's landlord couldn't be assed to make. Býleistr cheerfully took the cost out their rent the next month, after checking with the lawyer in employ of the construction company he worked for to make sure he was entitled. 

In all, they were managing. Býleistr would occasionally make a face when Loki's job was referenced, approving even less once he'd found out it _was_ a strip club, but he never tried suggesting she find something else. 

That said, Loki did occasionally look through the classifieds in the papers left in the back room of the club, watching for a job that she could apply for that wouldn't care that she was an illegal alien. 

"Why even bother?" Betty asked one night, her southern accent so thick, Loki sometimes had trouble understanding her. 

Loki didn't look up from the paper. "I want my son to be able to tell people what his mamma does for a living without someone thinking I shouldn't be allowed to take care of him." 

"Nothin' shameful 'bout bein' a dancer." 

Loki shook her head. "Maybe not, but the law doesn't always think that way." 

Betty sighed and capped the lipstick she was always borrowing from Loki. "Ain't that the truth," she murmured before reaching around and slipping the lipstick between Loki's breasts. 

It was a testament to how desensitized she'd become to the job that Loki's only reaction was so snarl, "Do you want the lipstick to _warp_?! Christ, Betty," and toss the lipstick towards her small vanity, uncaring as it clattered noisily against the smudged mirror. 

"Relax, Loki," Betty ordered as she flounced away. "It's not like ya' can't afford another!" 

Loki scowled and refused to offer a response to that, beyond burying her nose even further into the paper. 

-0-

For New Years, Loki was invited with two other dancers – not Betty, she'd been pleased to note, until she found out the other woman had begged off because she had her own plans – to a private party hosted by, the proprietor assured them, a real high-paying client. 

"He asked for the best, and you girls are it," he informed them, grin wide and a little greedy. 

"Yeah, yeah," Louise, one of the other women, said, waving a negligent hand. "What're the rules?" 

_Rules?_ Loki wondered with a sinking sensation. 

"He wants topless, no pasties, but you get to keep your bottoms," the proprietor explained. "Expect lap dance requests and, knowing this client, he'll want to take at least one of you to bed. It's at your discretion whether you're willing to accommodate him or not. I would suggest you do." His eyebrows bounced up and down over his eyes, a familiar dance that Loki was honestly beginning to hate. 

Sarah, the other woman, rolled her eyes and wiggled long, fire engine-red nails at him. "Stop fuckin' around, boss. Who's the pretty-boy dealer, then?" 

He laughed, belly-deep and loud enough to catch the eyes of the two women getting the bar on the other side of the room ready for opening. "Tony Stark." 

Sarah and Louise both whistled while Loki's eyes went wide. She'd applied for a no-name position in the New York office before Býleistr had told her about the club. She'd never heard back from them, honestly hadn't expected to, at that point. It would figure that she would finally get into the building – rumor was Stark lived on the top floor – as a 'dancer'. 

One of the bouncers called out the ten minute warning from by the doors and the four of them stood. "The car will pick you up here half an hour before opening on the thirty-first. Don't plan to get home until late on the first," the proprietor told the three women before they could hurry to finish getting ready. 

Loki and the other two murmured their understanding and fled. 

-0-

"You don't look like you're having fun," a voice said from behind Loki. 

She turned away from the view – she'd been unable to keep herself from looking towards where she lived with Býleistr and Sleipnir, given that one of walls of windows faced in the right direction – and choked to find herself face-to-face with her host. "Mr. Stark!" she managed. "I– No, no this is– I'm having plenty of fu–"

Stark just shook his head and stepped around her to look out the window himself. When she turned to watch him, she saw he was looking towards her neighborhood, as though tracing her line of sight. "I always look up anyone I let into my building," he told her, quietly enough that, with the thrumming music Sarah and Louise were still dancing to for Stark's guests, Loki was the only one who could hear him. "You caught my eye, Mrs. Svensson." 

"I don't–" Loki coughed. "That's not...my name." 

Stark glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "No? Are you saying the only trace I could find of you doesn't exist?" 

Loki looked away, towards her home, shame a burn in her chest. "We're going through a divorce." A little lie; Sva hadn't contacted her again since she'd run out, and her lack of legal status kept her from filing for a divorce. It had been hard enough for him to tie them together without raising too many eyebrows; she had a sinking feeling their marriage would never be abolished. 

Then again, if Loki didn't exist, she could hardly be married, could she? 

Stark nodded and looked back towards the city. "So it's not your husband you're longing for. Your son?" 

Loki wrapped her arms around herself, glad she'd been able to get away with keeping her shirt – unlike her co-workers, who had quickly stripped down to just their bikini bottoms – but still feeling naked in spite of the added protection. "He's with his uncle." 

Stark hummed. "What's your name?" 

Loki glanced at him and found him watching her, phone in his hands, and took a moment to consider the pros of running. And, what? Hope Stark wouldn't hunt them down and tear them apart anyway? Býleistr had been right, this was a dangerous job. Too dangerous, maybe. 

"Loki Larsen," she whispered. "Originally Laufeysdóttir." 

Stark's typing was silent, the annoying clicking sound that too many touch screens implemented silenced. After a moment, he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. "You realize you and your sister are presumed dead." 

" _Good_ ," Loki spat, the vitriol in her voice surprising even her. She quickly looked away, out across the city to where her little family sat, watching the festivities on their outdated television. Býleistr would have been walking slowly around the apartment with the antenna while Sleipnir shouted out how clear the picture was. Sometimes, Sleipnir and Loki would make Býleistr keep walking around long after they'd found the perfect spot, just to make him grumble when they finally called him back in. 

Stark scattered her thoughts to ask, "And where is Býle– No, I'm going to butcher her name. Your sister." 

Loki paused a beat before correcting, "Brother." 

"Ah. The uncle watching your son." The screen of his phone shifted under his fingers. "Lester. Works in construction." He looked back towards Loki's home, and a glance at the screen of the phone showed a small map of the city, a red dot on top of the building Loki lived in. 

Loki hugged herself tighter and forced herself to ask, "What do you intend to do with all this information, Mr. Stark?" 

The billionaire considered that for a moment before pasting on the most shit-eating grin Loki had ever seen and asking, "Want a romp between my sheets?" 

"No." 

Stark threw his head back and laughed, loud enough to catch the attention of the others. Loki had a brief moment where she shrank under the heavy gazes of the two generals and the colonel Stark counted as his guests. But then she drew months of experience in the club around her like a shroud and purred, "So rude, Mr. Stark, keeping me from your guests." She tutted at him, then sauntered over to her two co-workers, resigning herself to never knowing Stark's answer to her question until it was too late. 

-0-

In the early morning light of the new year, when Loki rifled through her purse to find her apartment keys, she found one of the napkins they'd had with the food bar Stark had provided, words scrawled across it in handwriting that was almost worse than Sleipnir's attempts: 

_'Good luck, Ms. Larsen. Your secret's safe with me.'_

Two days later, a large envelope was awaiting Loki at work. She frowned at it in confusion, even as she ripped it open. The first sheet had her letting out a quiet noise of disbelief. 

Betty poked her head around Loki's shoulder. "Your husband finally file for divorce, then?" she asked of the paper. "Took him long 'nough." 

"I-I guess so," Loki stuttered. But, if this had been from Sva, it would have been delivered to the apartment. He couldn't possibly have known about her job. And wouldn't it have been...thinner? 

Loki waited until Betty left before flipping through the rest of the papers. There was the expected paperwork for the divorce, as well as some paperwork to change Loki's last name back to Larsen. All things that needed her signature to finish legalizing them, all perfectly in order, otherwise. 

At the very bottom of the pile were two envelopes. One had Loki's name on it, the other her brother's legal name. Loki opened hers and her eyes went wide to find a copy of her actual birth certificate – something she'd been required to leave behind when she and Býleistr fled – as well as the paperwork necessary to make her a United States citizen, backdated six years. 

"Oh my God," she breathed, awed and a little disbelieving. 

Býleistr's envelope held the same items, his birth certificate and documentation for citizenship. Security in paper form for both of them. There was no question in her mind as to who had left the packet. 

"Loki!" Betty called, warning in advance of her approach. 

Loki hurriedly shoved the papers back into their envelopes and turned to greet Betty with a smile that was so much wider than she usually managed. Betty blinked at her, approach slowing. "What is it, Betty?" 

"We're opened," Betty said, regaining herself and flashing Loki a smile back. "One of your gentlemen is lookin' for ya." 

"Of course," Loki agreed, standing. 

Betty sighed and stepped forward. She held Loki in place with a hand on her shoulder while she leaned around and picked up Loki's lipstick. "You look near a fright, girlie. He'll wait half a mo' for you to dress up for him." 

Loki laughed and took the offered makeup. "I don't know about that. You know how men can be." 

They shared a mean little smile, then Betty turned to go back to the floor while Loki turned to do her face up. 

Loki honestly thought that was the last she'd ever hear from Tony Stark. 

-0-

"Surely you can afford to enroll him in a better school than this dump," a voice said from behind Loki as she stared at the nearest elementary school to their apartment. 

Loki spun, purse held to use it – and the brick she kept inside – against the person who thought it was a good idea to startle her while she was out with her son. Then she recognized the man behind her. "Mr. Stark!" 

Stark grimaced and tugged down on his sunglasses so he could look over them at her. "Incognito, here. If you please, Ms. Larsen." 

Loki pressed her lips in a thin line. "I'm surprised you remembered my name." 

Stark raised an eyebrow. "I always remember the names of mysteries." He glanced down, then, at where Sleipnir was looking between them curiously. "Hello there, small human-thing." 

Sleipnir blinked, considered that label for a moment, then grinned and chirped back, "Hello, big man-thing!" 

Loki ruffled her son's hair, amused, before narrowing her eyes at the billionaire. "What, exactly, brings you out here? Not your usual stomping grounds." 

"This whole city is my stomping grounds," Stark retorted with an odd smile. "Am I not allowed to go for a walk?" 

"The most famous man in New York City – possibly the whole _country_ –"

"World, actually," Stark interrupted. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Loki shot back. "You're famous, everyone in this city knows your face, and you decided to 'go for a walk'. Please don't tell me you honestly expect me to fall for that." 

Stark grinned. "I like you best when you're riled, I've decided." He looked back at the school while Sleipnir giggled and Loki stared at him in confusion. "But, no, seriously, you can't mean to send the shrimp here. I mean, I've looked at the stat–" Stark coughed. "There are only a few really good districts in the city, and you're not living in one." 

"And how, exactly," Loki demanded, temper rising at the sheer _arrogance_ of this man, thinking he could dictate her life after helping her out _once_ , "am I to get him to any other school? We don't own a car. And, even if we did, neither Lester nor I can actually take Sleipnir to school, not with our work schedules." 

"You need a better jo–"

"Don't you _dare_!" Loki shoved a finger in the center of Stark's chest hard enough that he stumbled backwards, eyes widening. "I don't let my brother tell me what to do, what makes you think I'd take 'advice' from a complete _stranger_?!"

"We should fix that," was Stark's easy rejoinder. "Lunch? It's on me." 

"We are _not_ –"

"What do you think, small fry?" Stark asked of Sleipnir, completely ignoring Loki. "You have a favorite food place? Maybe someone has toys that caught your eye." 

Sleipnir's face lit up and Loki knew she'd lost. "Yeah! Mamma, can we?" He looked up at her, eyes wide and pleading. 

"Very well..." she allowed. 

Which was how she ended up having a surprisingly enjoyable meal with Tony Stark and her son. The topics of conversation ranged from the Iron Man armor and how it worked, to one of the TV shows Stark and Sleipnir both watched on a weekly basis, to how cheap the kids meals toys were and how one could improve on them. There was no mention of Sleipnir's future elementary school, nor of Loki's job choice, and Loki found herself relaxing. 

After lunch, Sleipnir led the way to a nearby playground – no matter how bad of an idea it was, the child always wanted to run around immediately after eating; Loki let him only because he'd fall asleep as soon as they got home – and Stark tagged along, sitting with Loki on one of the benches. 

They were both silent for a long moment, watching Sleipnir attempt to climb the slide. Finally, Loki asked, "What do you want? Really." 

"He's really quite an intelligent child, isn't he?" Stark mused. 

"You're avoiding the topic." 

Stark glanced at her. "I'm really not," he promised before looking back towards where Sleipnir had moved on to the swings, attempting to achieve the highest possible rise using only his own legs; it was a trick, Loki knew, that Býleistr had taught him. "Everyone seems to think I'm stuck in the present, stuck on _myself_ , but I'm not. I'm a futurist. I look ahead. I see brilliant kids losing their spirit because they're stuck in dead-end schools, while the privileged try to force genius on their spawn through tutors and the best teachers money can buy." 

"Speaking from experience?" Loki wondered, but there was none of the bite she usually would have laced through the words. 

Stark shrugged. "Maybe." He leaned forward, arms resting across his knees. "I can't stop this society from collapsing under its own privilege – even _I_ don't have that much clout – but I can try to minimize the damage. Give a couple kids a chance." 

"Why not give _all_ the kids a chance?" Loki returned, and there was the missing bite from her earlier words. "You're trying to make me send Sleipnir to another school system because this district is shit. Why not just fix the district? Or do you not have enough 'clout' for that?" 

Stark's lips twitched and he glanced over at her. "Maybe I will." He sat back up, slouching against the back of the bench. "But that's not going to be right away. It's going to take at least a year, longer, knowing politics." He made a face, then shook it away. "I can send a car for him. Have him brought to and from a better school. No expense to you." 

"We don't want your _charity_ ," Loki spat, the final word flung from behind her lips like a cobra spitting its poison. 

"It's not _charity_!" Stark insisted. "I'm just trying to hel–"

"You've helped plenty," Loki informed him coolly, standing from the bench. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, for insuring my brother and I weren't deported. Now, if you'll excuse me, we don't need any more help. Sleipnir! We're leaving!" 

"Coming, Mamma!" Sleipnir shouted back before jumping onto the slide. As the boy ran past where Stark still sat, staring after Loki's uncompromising form, he offered a bright, "Goodbye, Mr. Tony!" 

"Bye, squirt," Stark returned half-heartedly. 

"We need to stop back by that school, pick up a form," Loki said as Sleipnir caught her up. "Are you too tired? We can go tomorrow." 

"No, Mamma. I can keep going." 

Loki smiled and ruffled her son's hair before turning them in the direction of the school. 

Once they'd picked up the forms and started home for Loki to fill them on their table while Sleipnir napped, her son asked, "Mamma? Why don't you like Mr. Tony?" 

Loki glanced down at her son and her heart ached for his downtrodden expression. "I don't _dislike_ him, sweet one. I just..." She sighed and fingered the top edge of her purse and the very top of the papers she'd stuck inside. "Mamma and Mr. Stark have met before, and we didn't get on so well, then." She gently knocked a finger against the side of his nose, making him look up at her with a discontent face. She smiled at him and offered, "What do Mamma and Uncle Lester always say about first impressions?" 

"Make a good one, or it'll always be bad." He blinked. "Mr. Tony made a bad first impression, Mamma?" 

"He did." 

"I like him," Sleipnir insisted. "He's my friend." 

Loki fought with herself for a moment before deciding, "Good. I think he could use a friend like you." 

Sleipnir's responding grin was completely worth the way Loki's stomach churned with some emotion she didn't want to decipher. 

-0-

Loki didn't see Stark again until the end of spring. She and Býleistr had brought Sleipnir out for a little neighborhood play-date in Central Park, which was also serving as a sort of parent meet-and-greet while the children played. She had no idea Stark might show up until they all heard an odd, yet vaguely familiar sound. Almost like jets? 

"Is that _Iron Man_?" one of the parents exclaimed, pointing to where the well-known red and gold suit was landing near the gaggle of kids, all of whom were staring in awe. 

And then, once he was on the ground, the faceplate opened to reveal Stark's obnoxious shit-eating grin. "Hey, shrimp, where are you?" 

"Mr. Tony!" Sleipnir shouted and ran forward to hug the suit around the legs. After a moment, he pulled back to ask something in a voice too quiet for the adults to hear, frozen in disbelief where they'd been when the one man had first pointed the superhero out. 

The children, all close enough to hear Sleipnir, immediately looked around in worry, but Stark was quick to soothe, "No, God, no!" He chuckled. "Nothing like that. I just saw a gaggle of small-people from my balcony–" he pointed back towards Stark Tower, tall above them and glinting brightly in the afternoon light "–and no adults. Thought I'd come down and make sure the orphans hadn't escaped again." 

"Orphans?" the children exclaimed, nearly as one. 

" _Do something_ ," Býleistr hissed to Loki. 

Loki raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "I washed my hands of him back in January; what makes you think I'm at all interested in getting dragged back into his little world?" 

"Maybe the fact that Sleipnir's _hugging him_?"

Loki sighed. "I told Sleipnir he could be friends with Stark if he wanted to. You want me to go back on my word to him?" 

Býleistr grimaced. "No." 

"You know Tony Stark?" one of the mothers asked, her eyes wide and a little lustful, disturbingly. 

Loki closed her eyes in a brief plea for patience before replying, "Sleipnir met him, once, while we were walking around town. Mr. Stark was disguised at the time and I didn't realize who he was until we were ready to part ways." 

"And you didn't immediately run to Stark Tower and demand to see him again for your son?" another mother demanded. 

"What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you, but you pushed my son on the swings the other day and he'd really appreciate it if you'd not save the world for one day and come play with him instead'?" Loki snapped, her temper rising. 

Býleistr touched Loki's shoulder while the mother who'd spoken stuttered an apology. "Deep breaths, Lo'. Not everyone is as unimpressed with the rich and famous as you are." 

Loki huffed. 

Suddenly, the children were all running over, shouting excitedly for their parents and chattering requests that not a one of the adults could understand over the rabble. They all let out quite similar long-suffering sighs and various hands went up in a request for silence. (Loki made a mental note of the two fathers who moved as though to hit their children, knowing Býleistr was doing the same next to her.) 

Only once the children were mostly silent, did one of the fathers say, "Robby, let's hear it. _Just_ Robby," he added as at least half of the children opened their mouths to speak. 

The eldest of the children – a boy of twelve, by Loki's estimates – gave a quick nod and said, "Iron Man said he was willing to give each of us a quick ride over the park, but we have to get permission from our parents." 

There followed a brief, stunned silence before a number of parents began shaking their heads or letting out answers in the negative. A few parents looked uncertain, and one – a single father who lived in Loki and Býleistr's building and whom Loki honestly liked – looked very much like he was going to say yes, then he looked back at Loki questioningly, as though her pervious dealings with Stark made her the authority. Slowly, all the parents turned to her and Loki fought the urge to shrink away from them. 

Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped forward, meeting Stark's gaze – and his obnoxious smile – steadily. "Mr. Stark. May I make something perfectly clear?" 

His smile faltered briefly before he forced it back into place. "By all means," he agreed cheerfully enough. 

"If you return my son with a single scratch, we will see exactly how well that hunk of metal you call armor stands up to my purse." 

Sleipnir let out a whoop and ran back towards Stark, shouting, "I love you, Mamma!" 

For his part, Stark's expression turned dangerously serious and he inclined his head, a promise and statement of understanding. 

Then Sleipnir reached him and Stark was grinning again as he helped the child climb up onto his back. 

"Are you sure that's safe?" one mother asked as Loki rejoined the parents. A couple of other parents had already given their children permission and they were lining up, only minor shoving breaking out while they were under the hard gazes of their parents. 

"Not in the least," Loki answered honestly. "But I trust Mr. Stark's promise to make sure Sleipnir returns unharmed." She smiled helplessly. "Which is more than I can say for some of the messes that child gets himself into." 

A few parents chuckled in agreement and shooed their children to the line. One family turned and left, dragging their two whining children behind them. 

By the time Stark had returned Sleipnir – obviously unharmed and an absolute whirlwind of excitement – and taken off with the next child, the last of the parents who'd been holding out let their child join the line and all the parents settled back to watch the rotating door of Iron Man Rides while they finished sorting out who would be watching for the children on their ways to and from school on which days. 

Almost the moment they walked into the apartment after finally calling it quits for the day, Loki's phone buzzed with a text message. Frowning, she pulled it out and flipped to it. 

_'Dinner, tonight, you pick the place, I'll foot the bill. And, yes, the whole family can come. Tony'_

Loki stared at it for a long moment before turning to where Sleipnir was watching her, guilt scrawled across his face. She sighed. "You gave him my number." 

Sleipnir hung his head. "He said he wanted to have dinner, but he didn't want to make any of the other kids jealous." 

Loki had the sudden, inescapable revelation that, until Stark either got bored or got whatever it was he wanted, the man was going to be using Sleipnir to pester Loki. And she might as well get used to it. She sighed again and looked towards Býleistr, a little helpless and needing a second opinion.

Býleistr shrugged. "You might as well try to get a straight answer out of him." 

" _Again_ ," Loki muttered, even as she typed out an affirmative to Stark, specifying a place near Times Square that was ridiculously overpriced, but which boasted a child's play area that she'd planned to take Sleipnir to once he was big enough, before she'd run out on Sva and his money. 

Stark's response was immediate, and consisted of a line of smiley faces, followed by asking if they'd need a car. 

_'Only,'_ Loki returned, _'if you have one that won't stand out in our neighborhood.'_

_'It'll be there at six.'_

Loki _really_ hoped the billionaire wasn't going to send something like a Mercedes. 

-0-

Stark sent a station wagon which looked old enough to be an antique to pick them up. In spite of its crappy exterior, it ran smoothly and the interior was in good condition, though the fabric on the ceiling was pillowing downwards in spots, staples peppering it in a clear attempt to at least _try_ to keep it off their heads. 

Stark was waiting for them in a corner of the restaurant, all of the tables around him conspicuously empty, though most of the tables on the far side of the room were full-up. He shrugged at Loki's raised eyebrow and rose to accept the hug Sleipnir bestowed on him, the boy clearly excited to see him twice in one day. 

When Loki finally ushered her son into a chair, Stark held a hand out to Býleistr. "Mr. Larsen, I don't think we've been properly introduced. Tony Stark." 

"Lester Larsen," Býleistr returned, shaking Stark's hand. "It's good to finally meet you. And since I'm sure my sister never said it, thank you, for all your help at the start of the year. We honestly appreciate it." 

Stark grinned and tipped a wink towards Loki. "I got brief and rather chilly thank you out of her, at one point," he allowed and Loki huffed, ducking her head to hide a blush at the reminder of their last real meeting. "But you're certainly welcome. Please." He gestured for Býleistr to sit, returning to his own chair once Loki's brother had done so. 

As though Stark sitting was a sign, a waiter was immediately there to take their drink orders. 

Dinner was filled with much of the same random conversational topics as last time. Stark wanted to know what it was like to be a man in a woman's body, which Býleistr was happy to expand upon, while Sleipnir wanted to know more about the suit and Býleistr wanted to know about the layout for Stark Tower, having developed an honest interest in architecture since being hired on by the construction agency he worked for. 

Loki was quiet through most of it, letting the voices float around her and silently attempting to figure out what Stark was up to. 

When the dishes were cleared away, Býleistr took Sleipnir to the play area, leaving Stark and Loki watching after them for a moment before Stark ordered two coffees. "I hope you drink coffee," he added to Loki. 

Loki shrugged, "I have a five-year-old and a night job; coffee is far too often a necessity." 

Stark's expression tightened briefly at the mention of her job, but he didn't take the bait, to Loki's minor disappointment. Instead, he said, "He's a good kid. Not nearly as annoying as some of the five-year-olds I've met in the past." 

"He's had to grow up fast," Loki murmured with true regret, remembering all-too-well Sleipnir's expression every time he saw one of the bruises Sva had left. 

They were quiet as the coffee arrived. Stark doctored his with a little bit of sugar, while Loki poured in more creamer than she probably needed. After she took a sip and decided it was sufficient, she finally asked, "What do you want?" 

Stark raised his eyebrows at her and took a sip of his coffee. "To drink my coffee, of course." 

"Please don't make me hit you with my purse in so nice an establishment." 

Stark's eyes darted down to where her purse was hanging on the back of her chair, weighed down heavily by the brick inside. "Do I want to know what's in there?" 

"The longer you avoid my question, the more likely you are to find out," Loki promised sweetly. 

Stark's mouth turned up with a smile and he quickly hid it by taking another sip of his coffee. "I'd have thought it obvious." 

"It's really not." 

The billionaire sighed and set his coffee down. "This would be what is known as a 'date', Ms. Larsen. It means I–"

"I know what it _means_ ," Loki hissed, setting her own cup down a little too hard because her hands were shaking. "What I don't understand is _why_?"

Stark watched her, expression nearly as serious as it had been earlier that day, when he'd given his silent word to keep Sleipnir safe. "You told me no." 

"I–" That brought Loki up short and she blinked at him, confused. "What?" 

"New Year's Eve. I had the power to destroy your life, the lives of your brother and son, and when I asked if you would sleep with me, you told me no." He offered her a smile, small and a little bitter. "Not many people tell me no, Ms. Larsen, certainly not people who know I can ruin their life on a whim. That takes guts." He glanced towards the play area while Loki stared at him in disbelief. "You seem to have them in ready supply." 

"So?" Loki managed, swallowing against a sudden dryness in her throat. 

Stark looked back at her, his smile easing slightly. "I tend to be exceedingly fond of people who can tell me no. I like to keep them around." He ran his eyes down her body – what he could see of it around the table – blatantly checking her out. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're fucking gorgeous, and I'm also fond of beautiful women. You are, quite honestly, a candle flame to my poor moth-self." 

Loki let out a snort. "That was shit." 

Stark sighed. "I know. Poetry is not my forte, alas." 

The laughter had bubbled out of her before Loki could even think to stop it. 

Stark grinned, wide and surprisingly honest, and held a hand out across the table towards her. "It seems to me that we've had two dates now and you have yet to tell me whether or not you'd like to continue them, Ms. Larsen." 

"And if I say no? Will you continue using Sleipnir to get my attention?" Loki demanded, not moving her hands from where they were cupped around her coffee. 

"Probably," Stark admitted, then wiggled his fingers. 

Loki sighed and gave in, letting her hand slip into his and curl together comfortably. "Fine. But if you start telling me to quit my job again, Mr. Stark–"

Stark grimaced. "I promise to keep my disapproval to myself, but I'm afraid that's the most I can manage." 

"Says the playboy," Loki shot back. 

Stark sighed. "Consider me reminded of my past transgressions. Can we agree to forget about the fact that we've both got way too many notches in our bedposts? Or, well, dancer poles," he amended, eyes glinting. 

Loki snorted. "Very well. I will allow you to date me, Mr. Stark, with those stipulations." 

"Then I think we'd best dispense with the formalities, Loki," Stark returned smoothly. 

Loki narrowed her eyes before allowing, "Certainly, Tony." 

Stark smiled at her and leaned forward to pull her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm, causing Loki's breath to hitch for some reason she couldn't begin to understand. "Should we go relieve your brother of shrimp-watching duty?" 

Loki cleared her throat and drew her hand away. "Probably, yes. 

Stark rose and was around the table to help her from her own seat before she could think to begin getting up. She smacked away his assistance and made a noise of disapproval as he picked up her purse. Stark's eyebrows raised. "Seriously, what have you got in here? A brick?" 

"Yes, actually. I almost always walk home before the sun rises." 

"I could give you a car–"

"What have I told you about charity?" 

"It's not–" Stark let out an irritated huff. "Give me one good reason why you can't take that station wagon. It's a piece of crap and _I_ clearly have no use for it, beyond blending in in the more poverty-stricken areas of the city." 

Loki smiled at him. "Neither Lester nor I can drive." 

Stark blinked. "Ah. Well. Right." He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, I suppose that would make a car a bit superfluous." 

"A bit," Loki agreed. 

"I could teach you how to drive?" 

Loki gently thumped her purse against his leg. "No." Then she left him behind to find her family. 

Somewhere in the furthest corner of her mind, Loki wondered how Býleistr was going to respond to this development. 

-0-

"Will you call me a hypocrite for being okay with it?" Býleistr asked when Loki asked later that night, after Sleipnir had been tucked in and the two siblings were sitting around the kitchen table. 

Loki cocked her head to one side. "Why would I call you that?" 

"I remember, back before you started working at the club, that I wasn't going to let you find another man any time soon. It hasn't even been a year." 

Loki shrugged. "You said you didn't want want me marrying someone who would abuse me," she pointed out. "I'm not looking to marry him, and he's nothing like Sva." 

"Sva, I will remind you, was a perfectly nice man before you got pregnant." 

Loki looked away. "I'm not looking to marry him," she repeated. 

Býleistr reached out and caught her hand in his. He offered a helpless little smile when she looked up at him. "I know. I'm glad." He shook his head. "We'll take this one day at a time." 

"And if he hurts any of us, I'll take my purse to his metal head," Loki growled. 

Býleistr giggle-snorted. "Might want to add a second brick, first." 

"Or just get him to open the front." 

The conversation rather devolved from there. 

-0-

Somehow, Stark must have got a hold of Loki's schedule – she wasn't sure if it was through the club or her brother, honestly – because he only ever asked her out when she wasn't working. She never bothered trying to turn him down on account of her having to care for Sleipnir, just warned him in advance that her son – and Býleistr, on more than one occasion – was coming with. He never seemed to mind, and seemed to derive some sort of joy from handing a toy he'd brought along to Sleipnir and getting an entirely honest thank you. 

"You're going to spoil him," Loki commented one time, watching Sleipnir with the truck repair set Stark had brought. They were out in the park, the leftovers of their picnic spread out around them. Stark had pulled out an extra blanket with the toy, so Sleipnir had been able to spread out without fear of losing any pieces in the grass or among the leftovers. 

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do to kids?" Stark replied, and Loki couldn't tell if he was joking or not. 

Loki shrugged. "There's a line. You have to be careful of it." 

Stark looked at her, something sharp hidden behind his smile. "Have I crossed it?" 

"Not yet. I'll let you know when you're toeing it." 

Stark leaned forward, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I'd appreciate that," he said, and he sounded so honest, Loki frowned at him. He caught her expression and forced a smile. "I am a really shitty role model, you may have noticed. The last thing I ever wanted in my life was a kid." 

Loki looked towards her son, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. "We're a package deal, Sleipnir and me." 

Stark sighed. "Probably a good thing I like you, then. I'm kind of attached to the shrimp over there." He wiggled his eyebrows when Loki looked back at him, half disbelieving. When her expression didn't change, he frowned. "What? No, bad call? Am I not _supposed_ to like your kid, Loki?" 

Loki swallowed and looked away. "Sva hated Sleipnir. It's the reason..." She waved her left hand at him, showing the lack of wedding ring. 

"Hey." Stark caught her flailing hand and threaded their fingers together. "I'm not your ex, okay? If I didn't like Sleipnir, we wouldn't be here. I'd have given up after you left me high and dry in the park." Stark smiled at her and Loki couldn't help but smile back, tiny as it was. "Which, by the way, that was super rude. Have I told you how rude that was?" 

"You like me when I'm rude," Loki returned, smile widening. 

"I am so ridiculously turned on by you being rude to me. You should be rude more oft– Oh my God, that did not just come out of my mouth." 

Loki withdrew her hand from his grasp so she could hide behind it and laugh. She was quickly coming to understand that Stark was a bit of a motor-mouth, and he didn't always realize what he was saying until he'd already fallen into the hole he'd just dug himself. 

"Can we do that conversation over again?" 

Loki peeked up at him, helplessly charmed by the wide, hopeful eyes he'd turned on her. Still, she was a mother and had two younger siblings; she was more than capable of tucking her amusement away, meeting his eyes, and dryly informing him, "Absolutely not. You're simply going to have to live with your poor choices." 

" _Rude_ ," Stark informed her, but he was grinning. 

-0-

Attacks in New York weren't _common_ per se, but they were expected, between the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, and Iron Man calling it their stomping ground. (There were a couple other, quieter heroes running around, too, but those were the three – six, if you wanted to count the Four separately, which people usually didn't – that attracted the most trouble.) Stark had told Loki at one point, too, that there was a spy organization based in East Side which liked to make enemies of the same sort that Stark and the Four did, which didn't help New Yorker's odds for a peaceful week. 

Given all that, Loki wasn't particularly surprised to be woken one morning, not long after Sleipnir had left for school and Býleistr for work, by the sound of distant explosions. She sighed and pulled a pillow over her head, muttering, "Dammit, Tony. This better not be your fault." 

Then her phone rang. 

Loki peeked out from under her pillow at the innocent piece of technology sitting on the bedside table. When it rang a second time, she groaned and picked it up to find Stark's name on the lit screen. She groaned again and moved her pillow enough to bring the phone to her ear. "Sleeping," she whined at him. 

_"Get up, get dressed, and get out,"_ Stark ordered, voice tight. 

Loki threw her pillow off and sat up, focusing on the explosions. They were definitely closer than they had been. "Fuck. Shit and fuck, what the _hell_ , Tony?!" she snapped at him as she got up and pulled out a pair of pants to throw under her sleep shirt. She took a moment to debate finding and fighting with a bra, before deciding she would just hold her breasts if she had to run somewhere. 

_"This was completely not my idea,"_ Stark replied drily. Then, rushed, _"Fucking finally. Get out of there, Loki. I'll call you again when things are clear."_

The line went dead. 

Loki shoved her phone into a pocket and slipped her shoes on as she grabbed for her keys. In the hallway, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up the stairs, "EVERYONE OUT!" then pulled the fire alarm. 

As she stepped out into the street, her phone rang again and she pulled it out to find Býleistr calling. "Hey, Lester," she answered. 

_"Lo', there's a group of beekeepers zeroed in on our neighborhood. Tell me you're up."_

"I'm up, I'm out," Loki promised. "Tony already called me." 

Býleistr let out a relieved breath. _"Thank God for superhero boyfriends. Listen, from what the news is saying, it looks like they'll skip right past the elementary school, so that's probably a safe place to take cover."_

"Thanks for the tip," Loki replied, turning her feet towards her son's school. "I need to put the phone away, okay? I promise to call you back as soon as I can." 

_"Go. If Tony and his allies – whoever they are–"_

"Has he got some?" Loki interrupted, something easing in her chest at the news. 

_"Yeah. Couple really cool planes, men and women in all black uniforms. Looks like a group, with the bird symbol on everything. Tony seems to know them."_

"Yeah," Loki agreed; Stark had said the spy organization had a bird as their symbol, she recalled. "Yeah, they're okay." 

_"Good. If they clean up the beekeepers before you call me, I'll call you."_

"Sounds fair. Stay safe, Lester." 

_"You too, Lo'."_

Loki hung up and joined the group of neighbors heading in the direction of the school, many of them either on the phone with someone watching the TV, or likely having heard the safest direction to head in before they left their apartments. 

At the school, it didn't take Loki long to be reunited with Sleipnir, as learning had been put on hold due to the threat. Parents were allowed to either take their children home if they lived in an unthreatened area, or stay at the school and take cover. Either way, they were allowed to pick up their children, which Loki appreciated. Judging by the way Sleipnir clung to her when she knelt down to hug him, the feeling was mutual. 

"Mr. Tony's up there," Sleipnir whispered to Loki as the AIM soldiers zoomed past overhead. Iron Man and the two black planes Býleistr had mentioned were in pursuit, trading fire between them. 

An AIM soldier fell off his transport just beyond the school boundaries. He was quickly surrounded by angry parents and local residents, who set about punishing him for the actions of his organization with fists or feet. 

Loki turned away from the violence, forcing Sleipnir to do the same. As a result, their backs were both turned when the explosion happened. Loki quickly turned to look, ignoring the screams and shouts breaking out around her. The billowing smoke was in the general direction of their home, and Loki felt like her heart had stopped for a moment before beginning to beat double-time. 

Sleipnir tugging on her shirt made her look down at him. He tapped her pocket and, with a frown, she reached into it and pulled out her phone. The screen was lit with an incoming call from Stark, but the ringtone had been lost in the sea of noise. She hit answer and held it up to her ear, taking Sleipnir's hand in her own and trying to get away from the crowd. "Tony?" 

He said something, but she couldn't understand him over the shouting and screaming of the crowd. "Hold on!" she called into the phone just before she broke through the crowd. She stepped into the school, letting the safety door fall shut behind herself and Sleipnir and block out most of the sound. "Sorry. Explosion set people off." 

_"Explosions tend to have that effect on people,"_ Stark replied, and there was an overwhelming relief in his voice. _"It was about a block from your building, before you ask," _he continued, "but if the emergency services don't get here pretty damn quick–"__

A second explosion sounded, making the school building shudder. Loki leaned over Sleipnir, protecting him from any chance of falling debris, wincing from the sound of it through the phone. "Tony? Tony, are you still there?" 

There was a cough, then Stark shouting, _"I **told** you not to touch that stuff. God **dammit**! Why don't you people ever listen to me? At least I don't have to try finding out his name to bitch at Fury about hiring **morons**."_

"Tony," Loki interrupted, half relieved to hear him complaining, half concerned about the unexplained explosion. 

Stark coughed again, then quietly said, _"Anything I even said about SHIELD being okay? I take it back. On that note, how do you feel about moving in with me?"_

Loki closed her eyes as her stomach dropped. "Please tell me this is just you trying to move our relationship along, and not your way of telling me some idiot spy just blew up my building." 

"Uh-oh," Sleipnir whispered. 

_"At least the idiot spy is dead?"_ Stark offered helpfully. 

Loki took a deep breath. "I need to call my brother." 

_"He's welcome too,"_ Stark insisted. 

"Hanging up to call my brother." 

_"Where are you?"_ Stark asked before she could end the call. 

Loki paused for a moment before admitting, "Sleipnir's school." 

_"Okay. Stay there, even if they try clearing you out. I'll come find you as soon as I can."_

Loki swallowed a well of emotions she didn't have the time to stop and analyze right then. "Fine," she agreed, then hung up. 

"Mamma?" Sleipnir said before Loki could gather herself enough to dial Býleistr. When she met his wide eyes, he asked, "Do we not have a place to live?" 

Loki swallowed and kissed his forehead. "We'll be okay." When his forehead remained furrowed, she added, "Mr. Tony's invited us to stay with him until the repairs are made." 

Another explosion caused the building to shudder and Loki curled protectively around her son again while Sleipnir hid his face against her belly. 

Once the building had calmed – though the screaming outside had got louder – Sleipnir asked, "Can we?" 

Loki glanced towards the smoke, flames now visible over the buildings between the school and the site of the explosions. "I don't think we have a choice," she admitted. 

Sleipnir, in response, stuck his thumb in his mouth, like he used to do when Sva went on a rampage. 

Loki kissed his forehead again, then dialed Býleistr. 

_"Lo'?"_ he picked up, voice shaking with fear in a way she hadn't heard since before she'd met Sva and found a solution for all their troubles. _"Our apartment is gone. What are– Loki, ég er hrædd. Hvað eigum við að gera?"_

Loki winced to hear their native tongue. "We're going to be okay. Tony's offered to let us stay at Stark Tower; _all_ of us. We're not homeless." 

_'We don't have to hide behind a dumpster, one eye always cracked open,'_ she didn't say. 

"Lester, I need you to take a deep breath," she ordered, firming her voice. She waited until he'd done so before saying, "Are you required to stay on site?" 

_"I can... I'll ask."_

"Okay." 

Loki waited in silence, watching the screaming crowd outside the safety doors with Sleipnir while she listened to Býleistr, the sound muffled on his end, asking his supervisor if he was required to stay. The man knew well where they lived, and he was quick to insist that Býleistr go and see if anything could be retrieved once it was safe, see where they were putting up the people who'd lost their homes. _"Take tomorrow, too,"_ he'd added as Býleistr stopped muffling the sound, likely to update Loki. _"I'll pay you for it, don't worry. Take care of your sister and nephew, make sure they're okay in whatever shelter they put you all in."_

_We've got– My sister's boyfriend offered to put us all up."_

_"He anything like the last slimeball?"_

_"No. Or, if he is, he hides it pretty good. Well. He hides it pretty we–"_

The supervisor chuckled. _"Go on, Les. Go check on your family. I'll see you Thursday."_

 _"Thanks!"_ Býleistr called before he let out a huff directly into the phone microphone. _"Okay. You're at the school?"_

"Inside the front doors. Tony said he'd meet us here," Loki agreed. "Watch out for the crowd; they're not happy." 

_"No,"_ Býleistr agreed quietly, _"they wouldn't be."_

-0-

Shortly after Býleistr got there, the police and men in black uniforms with the bird on them started clearing out the crowd, sending people to temporary shelters while they found new homes for them. When a man approached Loki, Býleistr, and Sleipnir, Loki straightened and stepped forward to meet him with a cold stare. "Can I help you?" she asked. 

"Ma'am, if you live in the affected area, I need you to go with that group over there–" he pointed to where many of Loki's neighbors were being ushered away as a group "–to be shown to a shelter. If you don't, I need you to return to your home." 

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. "I was told by Tony Stark to wait for him here. Unless you can take me and my family, _safely_ , to where he is, we're not moving." 

The man paused. "I'm going to need to verify that with Mr. Stark." 

"By all means," Loki agreed. "My name is Loki Larsen. If you would also be so kind as to pass a message on to him, I would appreciate it if you told him my brother has joined my son and I." 

The man grimaced and turned away, one hand held to his ear. He murmured to himself for a moment, then fell silent. His shoulders tensed, then drooped, and he turned around with a defeated expression. "Mr. Stark thanks you for the update, Ms. Larsen. If you and your family would like, you can come and take shelter in our truck." 

Loki shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but we're fine where we are." So saying, she turned on her heel and returned to her family. 

Stark arrived not quite twenty minutes after that. He immediately raised his faceplate upon landing and stopped to talk with one of the men in black, face twisted with a scowl. The man pointed him towards where Loki and Býleistr were rising, Sleipnir asleep on his uncle's back, and Stark's expression immediately lightened. 

They met closer to where Stark had landed, the suit not really designed for walking, and Stark wasted no time in pulling Loki into a tight hug. "God," he whispered, quiet enough that Loki almost wasn't sure he was speaking at all, "I was so fucking worried." 

"Mr. Tony?" Sleipnir mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with one clenched fist, the other holding tight to Býleistr's shirt. 

Stark let Loki go, but kept in contact with a metal hand on her waist, and smiled at the boy. "Hey, shrimp. What do you think about a sleepover at my place?" 

Sleipnir smiled sleepily. "Awesome." 

Stark chuckled. "Totally, completely awesome. And Happy should be– Ah, good." He nodded towards where a limo was pulling into the school bus circle. To Loki, he said, "I decided to dispense with discretion, sorry, but the suit doesn't fit into station wagons too well." 

"We get to ride in a limo?" Sleipnir asked, making a desperate attempt to wake up. 

"I'll forgive you on account of Sleipnir's excitement," Loki informed the billionaire drily. 

"Oh, good," Stark replied, moving one hand in front of his forehead, as though wiping away sweat. 

Happy Hogan, the man who often acted as a driver for when Loki went out to meet Stark, politely held the door of the limo open for them. He had no reaction for Stark's suit beyond a dry, "I just got these seats fixed after the last time your suit ripped them, too." 

Tony smirked at him. "And now you can do it again. Because you're awesome." 

Happy rolled his eyes. "No, because you pay me enough to buy my own limo," he returned before closing the door in Stark's face. 

"Have I mentioned recently that I'm quite fond of your driver?" Loki mused. 

"Wait until you meet my PA," Stark returned, then winced. "On second though... JARVIS, tell me Miss Potts has vacation time saved up." 

Loki had only heard the cultured British voice a couple times, but it was hard not to recognize the voice of Stark's...whatever JARVIS was, given his accent, so she made no reaction to voice coming from Stark's armor, though Býleistr looked around in surprise. _"She does, Sir, but I don't believe she'll be willing to take it without good reason."_

"She's been looking super stressed lately," Stark was quick to say. 

_"She has appeared no more or less stressed than ever, Sir,"_ JARVIS politely pointed out. 

"Uh, is it almost her birthday?" 

_"Her birthday was in May."_

Stark blinked. "What's the month?" 

"End of September," Loki provided, shaking her head. In his seat next to Býleistr, Sleipnir was giggling. 

Stark cleared his throat. "There aren't any holidays at the end of September, are there?" 

"No, Tony." 

_"I'm afraid, Sir, that you're simply going to have to 'take one for the team'."_

"Oh, shut up, you overgrown food processer," Stark grumbled, but there was fondness in the insult. 

"So, why do you not want me meeting your PA?" Loki asked, smiling sweetly at Stark. 

Stark stared down at her for a moment before moaning, "I'm _doomed_."

Loki got the feeling that she and Miss Potts were going to get on famously. 

-0-

Stark gave them an entire floor of his tower, directly below his penthouse. The rooms were already pre-furnished, and Sleipnir's room had been decorated with a giant Spider-Man mural on one wall – his personal favorite superhero, which Stark had originally whined about for about two minutes before agreeing that Spider-Man was pretty freaking awesome – a glow-in-the-dark solar system on the ceiling, and everything else done in his favorite shade of dark blue. 

"How long have you been planning this?" Loki demanded while Sleipnir gushed about his new room to Býleistr. 

Stark glanced away for a moment before clearing his throat and meeting her gaze. "Inviting you to stay with me? Since about the week before Sleipnir started school." 

Loki thought back to that time period and recalled a brief fight they'd had when Stark had, again, tried suggesting better schools for Sleipnir to attend. Loki turned them all down due to the distance, and when Stark began to say he could help with that, she become a little...snappy. 

In the present, Loki pressed her lips together into a thin line, then said, "You realize it would still be a no, under normal circumstances." 

Stark looked like she'd smacked him. "Will you at least tell me _why_?" he pleaded. Before she could speak, he hurriedly added, "And please, for the sake of the last four arguments we've had about this, don't tell me you're refusing because you won't accept ' _charity_ '. This isn't charity, it's a natural progression in a relationship." 

Loki stared at him for a long moment before turning towards Býleistr and Sleipnir. "Sweet one, Mamma and Mr. Tony need to talk upstairs for a moment. Behave for Uncle Lester?" 

Sleipnir nodded. "Okay, Mamma." 

Býleistr furrowed his brows, a silent 'Is everything okay?'

Loki shrugged in response, then motioned for Stark to proceed her to the open staircase that connected their floor to his penthouse. Up there, Loki settled on the circular couch in the main area while Stark went to the bar. "Don't you _dare_ ," Loki snarled, having long made her thoughts on his alcoholism clear. 

"I'm not," Stark promised quietly, walking over to join her with two bottles of water. He handed one to her before sitting across from her. "There's not any alcohol behind the bar. I had Pepper – Miss Potts, my PA – get rid of it all when I had the downstairs prepared for you." He offered her a tired, bitter smile. "Restocking it would have been like admitting defeat." 

Loki looked away, touched and aching at the show of how much he'd turned his own life on its head for her sake. She cleared her throat and said, "You asked me, a few weeks ago, why we left Iceland." 

Stark nodded. "You changed the subject on me," he replied, only a hint of accusation in his tone. 

Loki still flinched. "I did," she agreed, then looked up and met his gaze. "You know some of this, I'm sure, but bear with me." When he nodded, she took a deep breath and explained, "I'm the eldest of three. Our father, Laufey, was not pleased to be gifted with a daughter, as he had wanted a son, and so I was largely ignored by him. When Býleistr – Lester – was born, he was again displeased, for he now had two daughters. He threatened Móðir with abandonment to the sea if she did not next bear him a son. 

"Móðir finally bore a son, as ordered, but he died before he was given a name. Laufey punished by locking her out of the house in the middle of a snowstorm and beat me in her place." Stark let out a quietly horrified noise and looked down at his water, unable to hold her gaze any longer. "He would have beat Lester too, but I hid him away as soon as Laufey threw Móðir out into the snow. When our brother, Helblindi, was finally born, it was a relief for us all. Móðir, sadly, only lived long enough to name my youngest brother, then passed away, having used all her strength to bring him into the world alive. 

"Laufey, as you might expect, rained praise and love down upon Helblindi. I was left to look after Lester and, when Laufey was away dealing with business or some such, Helblindi. Helblindi didn't much care for me, but he and Lester got on well enough, as Lester has always known he was a boy." Loki sighed and looked helplessly down at her water. "He was so confused when he found out that Laufey had wanted a son so bad he killed Móðir for one, for wasn't Lester his son?" 

Stark cleared his throat. "I'm sure that was a fun conversation." 

Loki smiled humorlessly. "The 'conversation', as you call it, was had with Laufey, who responded by beating my brother near to death for assuming himself anything better than a waste of the food he was always burning." 

Stark drew in a harsh breath. "Shit." 

Loki met his gaze again at last, stronger for the memories of their escape. "I decided then that Lester needed to get away. Helblindi didn't need me – wouldn't have wanted me, even if he had – and I would never send Lester away alone. I spent the time he was healing searching for ways to get off the island. There was a ship that transported goods between Iceland and various other countries, and we snuck aboard when Lester was well enough, not caring where it was going, so long as it would get us away." 

"It brought you to New York." 

"It did. We were nearly discovered disembarking, but managed to lose any pursuit beyond the docks. All that time remaining beneath Laufey's notice made us quite skilled at avoiding your officers of the law and other officials. 

"We spent almost three months living on the streets, Lester and I," Loki reported, tone factual, because if she let herself remember the terror and hopelessness of that time period, she would never get through it. "Lester caught the flu near the start of our second month and I nearly caught it myself, caring for him. One afternoon, while I was begging for some money to pay for medicine, Sva found me. He–" Loki's voice hitched and she paused to take a sip of water before coolly continuing, "He was willing to help get Lester and myself off the streets. When he found out about Lester's being a transsexual, he offered to help pay for the surgery and treatments. We accepted, all unknowing." 

"I'm not your ex-husband," Stark interrupted, voice tight. 

Loki met his gaze calmly, taking in the hurt and anger swimming in the now-familiar brown eyes. "No," she agreed after a heartbeat, "you are not." Stark's expression eased slightly. "But what is that saying? 'Once bitten, twice shy'? You may not be Sva, Tony, but he was nothing, then, like the man he became after Sleipnir's birth. What assurance can you give me that you will never turn on me?" 

Tony was deathly still for a long moment before he, in a flurry of movement, threw his water bottle onto the seat next to him and pulled his three shirts over his head. Loki found herself staring at a pale blue circle in the center of his chest, which he then proceeded to tap. "If I _ever_ lay a hand on you or Sleipnir or Lester, if I ever try to take advantage of any of you in some way, take this out. Remove it and throw it out a window. Smash it with that brick you always keep in your purse. Whatever you need to make sure I can't get it back easily." 

"What–" Loki swallowed and gave her head a brief shake before focusing on the strange technology again. "What _is_ it?" 

"Mini arc reactor. It's keeping me alive." 

Loki flinched back, eyes going wide. "Wha– What could _possibly_ make you think I would want you _dead_?!"

Tony met her eyes, his own as serious as she'd ever seen from him. "Just because I'm Tony Stark, just because I'm Iron Man, doesn't mean I have _any_ right to treat you as anything less than a person. _No one_ deserves to be treated as anything less than human. That goes for you with your job as a stripper, for your brother with his mistaken gender identity, your son with his really fucking _weird_ fascination with Spider-Man; all of you deserve to be treated like people. And if I _ever fucking forget that_ , finish me off. Because if I can hurt you, I can hurt anyone. I can go right back to that callous, uncaring, _bastard_ of a bomb manufacturer. And I would rather die than become that again. 

"This," he tapped the metal in his chest. "This is me putting my life into your hands, Loki Larsen. All I want in return is for you to give me a chance. Let me prove I'm not Sva, or your father, or any of those men and women at that club who look at you and see you as something less than human." He dropped his gaze, looking down at his hand on the arc reactor. "All I want is a chance," he said voice gone quiet. "Please." 

It was the please that finally got past Loki's armor. She dropped to her knees on the ground and made her way across to him. She put one hand over his, hiding the arc reactor from sight. When he looked up at her, something broken and raw in his eyes, she reached up with her free hand to cup his cheek. "Hi," she whispered past the block in her throat. "My name's Loki Larsen. I've got a lot of emotional scars and baggage, and a little brother and son that I can't leave behind, but if you're willing to put up with all that, I'd very much like to date you." 

Stark let out a laugh, a little wet around the edges, and brought up his free hand to cup her cheek in return. "Hi, Loki," he replied, just as quiet, "I'm Tony Stark. I moonlight as a superhero and sometimes I forget to come out of my lab and be a normal human being, but I'm willing to try a relationship if you are." 

Loki leaned forward to brush her lips against Stark's, teasing. "Yes," she managed to whisper before he pulled her in for a proper kiss. 

-0-

_Loki would hit Iron Man with her purse more than once and refuse to quit her job no matter how many times someone asked (all the while secretly looking for something better), and Tony would get lost in his lab and complain about how his girlfriend loved other men more than she loved him. Loki would get blackmail from Pepper, and Tony would get blackmail from Lester. They would have the most epic shouting matches over the stupidest shit and press all of the other's buttons just because they could._

_But Tony would never raise his hand to Loki or any of her family, and Loki would never touch the arc reactor beyond laying a kiss on it in bed because Tony's breath would hitch every time she did. Sleipnir would be spoiled beyond belief and Lester would agree to take a job as a Stark Industries security guard and learn to drive Tony's ridiculously expensive cars (because Happy couldn't be expected to drive everyone **everywhere** )._

_In the end, once all was said and done, they would be happy. And, one day, when Sleipnir told people his Papa was Iron Man, the only part that would be a lie was that they we're blood related. And, really, that's hardly a lie at all._

..


End file.
